


Abbey Grove - Bad Education

by CurlyCarla



Category: Bad Education (UK TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-22 01:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2490182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlyCarla/pseuds/CurlyCarla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfie and Frank bump into each other on a late night trip to Abbey Grove. -Friendship fic-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was the middle of the summer holidays. About 3 weeks after his kids had left, and Alfie couldn’t handle it. He knew that he couldn’t have had the kids forever, but they made his job worthwhile. 

That night, he got pretty drunk. Drunk enough to regret things, not drunk enough to just curl up in bed and cry. But instead of staggering to Rosie’s and singing like an ostrich like he normally did, he somehow found himself outside Abbey Grove. He had no idea how he got there, since it was a 15 minute car drive away, but he decided not to question himself.

Abbey Grove had shit security, so he was able to get in pretty easily. He wandered the halls like a ghost, his drink addled mind wondering how he was going to cope with a new class, when his heart was so firmly set in his old one. 

He had been trying to avoid his own classroom, but he quickly found himself stumbling towards it. He rested his hand on the door handle, contemplating whether to actually go in, when he heard a voice from down the corridor.

“Y’alright, Dickers?” 

Alfie sighed, resting his head against the door.

“Hi Frank.” He responded, pushing himself away from the door to look at him, standing at the end of the corridor. 

“What you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

Frank paused, looking at his scuffed trainers. They weren’t even tied properly, obviously shoved on. 

“I miss it, innit. I mean, I actually graduated din’t I? So now I can’t come back.” Frank muttered, kicking the ground. 

“I mean, you could. You could get some qualifications, come back as a teaching assistant or something.”

“Yeah, right. A kid that was ‘eld back 5 years become a teacher. Fuck that.”

Alfie shrugged. Frank started to walk towards him, and leant against the wall were Alfie was stood. 

“And it ain’t just leaving either. It was the protection innit.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It was this place that stopped me getting banged up, even though I ain’t even a minor. This place that got me away from my bitch of a mum. I need this place Wickers. And it’s gone.”

“I’m sorry mate. Aren’t you going to move out? I’m sure Stephen would take you in.”

“Nah, he’s off to London, some posh dance school. He’ll be busy enough as it is without me tagging along.”

“Did you break up?” Alfie asked, concerned.

“Not yet, but it’s coming. I can feel it. We ain’t as close as we used to be. It don’t matter now anyway, everybody’s got to move on innit. Give it six months and I’ll be getting a move on into the clink. Just gotta accept it.” Frank fished in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He offered one to Alfie, who shook his head. As Frank lit up, Alfie had an idea. 

“You need a place to go, right? You could live with me. You’d be close to the school, and I could help you with college. You could come back to Abbey Grove.”

“Yeah, thanks Wickers, but I really don’t think-”

“Alright then, go back to your mum.” Alfie said, the alcohol fucking up his thinking.

Frank flinched. Alfie was about to apologise, when Frank exhaled a large puff of smoke.

“Yeah. Alright then Wickers. I’ll come to yours. You sure Gulliver won’t mind?”

“We... We didn’t get back together.”

“Thank God, I’d had enough of your poxy whining about that bloody bird. Okay then. Am- Am I good to move in whenever?”

“Yeah sure, I need the company. Just don’t turn my flat into a drug den.”

“Can’t guarantee that.”

“I know.”


	2. A CV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfie talks to Frank about his future. Fun subject.

Frank dumped his bag on Alfie’s small sofa, looking around the small flat. Alfie was stood in the doorway to the living room, watching him, somewhat nervously. 

“Is that all your stuff?” Alfie asked, breaking the silence. He eyed the single tatty bag on his sofa.

“Yeh. Funny enough, mum didn’t splurge on me.”

“Oh.”

“Speaking of her, what happened to your dad? I thought he was livin’ here?”

“I kicked him out after that fiasco. Not dealing with his shit anymore.”

Frank chuckled, but with a slightly sarcastic undertone. 

“Anyway, I’ll show you your room. It’s a bit bare, since it was a spare, but it should be alright.”

... ... ...

“So, what are you planning to do for a job?”

They couldn’t be bothered to cook that night, so Alfie ordered in a take out. They were sat on the sofa tucking into the incredibly cheesy pizza, when the conversation had turned to Frank’s future. Not really the conversation he wanted to have over pizza, but this was a good a time as ever. Frank swallowed his mouthful, wiping a string of cheese off his chin.

“I dunno. I mean, who’s gonna hire me?”

“I asked myself the same question Frank, trust me.” Alfie reasoned, taking another bite of pizza.

“Yeah, but you haven’t shoplifted, burgled, mugged or committed arson.” Frank groaned, counting them off on his fingers. “You actually have GCSEs.” 

“Maybe tomorrow we could work on a CV?” Alfie said, rather enthusiastically.

“Yeah? It’ll just be a blank bit of paper Wickers. No point.” Frank sighed, leaning back into the sofa, finishing off his last slice of pizza.

“That’s not true! Forgetting qualifications, let’s look at the other stuff. I mean, what talents do you have?”

“You’re asking a convicted criminal what talents they have. Are you mental?” Frank certainly looked at him as if he was. 

“Interests?”

“Same as above innit. Taking shit, setting fire to shit. Proper qualifications, that.”

“This is going to be harder than I thought.” 

“You reckon Downton?” 

Alfie grinned suddenly; he had an idea. “I could talk to Fraser about getting you some work experience?”

Frank paused, contemplating it. “You really reckon I could be a teacher?” he asked doubtfully.

“Yeah. I’ve seen your History grades, you actually passed. There’s no reason why you couldn’t.”

“Don’t I need my three sciences?”

“Not for work experience, and you could always retake them at college.”

Frank pushed the pizza box off his stomach onto the floor, thinking about it.

“Go on then. Why not?” Frank agreed. Alfie smiled, picking up the various bits of rubbish and pushing them into the bag they came in, dusting crumbs off his chest. After he came back from binning the bag, he saw Frank texting someone.

“Who’s that? Please don’t tell me it’s your dealer.”

“Nah, got my stuff yesterday. Nothing heavy, you won’t get arrested for knowing me.” Alfie smiled briefly. “It’s Stephen.” Frank continued.

Alfie sat back down on the sofa next to him, looking concerned. “You two okay?”

“I’m telling him how you’re gonna help me get a job.” Frank muttered, preoccupied with tapping back a reply.

“What’s he saying?”

“How he’s proud of me, that he’s sorry he hasn’t seen me in ages, because he’s busy. He’s telling the truth, obviously, but...” Frank trailed off, unsure. He dropped his phone in his lap, the screen still on, and rubbed his face.

“Still hurts like a bitch? Yeah, I know.”

“What should I even say though? I know you’re busy, but I’m a fucking needy bastard who needs attention 24/7? Even if he wasn’t about to dump me before, he would then. We’re fucked Wickers. We’re done, but neither of us are saying it, and that makes it so much worse.” 

Alfie nodded solemnly, not knowing what to say. Anything he did say would probably make Frank feel worse.

“Anyway. I’m knackered, so... See you in the morning.” Frank stood up, yawning, and walked off to his room.

“Night Frank.” Alfie called after him, his mind filled with sympathy for him. A few minutes later, he went off to bed as well.


	3. Criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank /nearly/ gets in trouble. /Nearly/.

A few days later, Alfie was woken around midday by a frantic pounding on the door. He stumbled, bleary eyed, to the door, fumbling the lock. Once he had it open, he was pushed aside by Frank rushing in, and legging it inside the flat. 

“Jesus, what-”

“Good morning sir.” An official, head-up-arse sounding voice came from a small ways away behind him. Alfie turned, almost comically slowly, to see a policeman walking leisurely towards the door door. For a man of the law, Alfie was pretty sure that his greying handlebar moustache was illegal. 

“Hello there.” Alfie replied, stifling a smile.

“Do you know a Frank Grayson?” The man asked, pulling out a tatty black notebook and an Argos pen.

“Frank Grayson? No, I can’t say I do.” Alfie realised what was happening. He sighed inwardly, resolving to have a word with Frank as soon as this ass hat cleared off.

“Have you seen a Frank Grayson?” The man’s voice was so monotonous, it could have been recorded.

“If I have, I wouldn’t know.”

“Well, if you hear anything, call me on this number.” He handed over a crumpled business card. “Sorry to bother you sir. Have a nice day.”

“You too.” Alfie smiled, closing the door. He waited for 30 seconds before yelling “FRANK!”

“What?” Frank yelled back from somewhere in the flat.

Alfie followed his voice to the bathroom, to find Frank sat in the shower. 

“What... The hell?”

“They never check the shower.” Frank said knowingly, heaving himself up from the cramped position that he was sat in.

“You could have hid in my fucking hair mate, he wouldn’t have spotted you. He was dumb as shit. He must have seen you go inside, but he fucking bought it? Just like that? This is why I have no faith in the police.”

“This may surprise you Wickers, but I don’t really like them either.” Frank grinned, walking out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. He grabbed a slice of cold pizza from the night before, yet another take away, and chewed on it while he flopped in ‘his spot’ on the sofa. 

Alfie sat down next to him, glancing at the front door, as if he expected the police to be back.

“So what did you do this time?” Alfie asked. If he didn’t know Frank as well as he did now, he would probably be frowning and disapproving of Frank’s actions. But since the incident with the ambulance earlier that year, he had become a lot more accepting of minor crimes in general, especially when they benefited him. 

“May have accidentally not paid for something.” Frank said, widening his eyes faux-dramatically. 

“Dear lord, the horror.” Alfie exclaimed sarcastically. He yawned, having still not completely woken up. “Wha- What was it?”

“Pair of shoes. My other ones are fallin’ apart innit. Forgot about the tag, that’s all. Tell you something, hurdling is fucking useful when you’re running from cops.” Frank smiled, swallowing down a mouthful of pizza. “Speaking of which...” Frank unzipped his jacket, letting a pair of trainers fall out. He picked up the one with a tag and threw it to Alfie. “Stick that in the freezer would you? It’s an ink tag.”

Alfie looked from the shoe to Frank before sighing and standing up again. “What did I tell you about committing crimes?” he called from the freezer.

“You told me not to turn this place into a drug den. I haven’t.”

“Fair enough. Just don’t get me caught up in this. Like Ro- Miss Gulliver said. Uh... Something about an accomplice.”

“Yeah yeah, okay. If you’re so scared, tie the other shoe up behind the curtains.” Frank said offhandedly, more interested in the remainder of his pizza. Alfie frowned, looking up at his curtains. Frank looked up at him, and nodded at the lone trainer. “Come on Wickers, it ain’t that hard.” 

Alfie picked it up and walked to his curtains, pulling one across. He looked up to see another pair of trainers and a t shirt strung up on the rail. 

“Frank, seriously. This is getting out of hand.”


	4. Beer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started with beer, and ended with a phonecall.

The time to return to Abbey Grove was rapidly approaching; Alfie and Frank were a strange mix of happy and full of dread. Alfie had talked to Fraser, and he had agreed to take Frank on for a while to see how he did. Granted, Fraser wasn’t entirely happy with the arrangement, but, not as surprisingly now as it would have been, Alfie had convinced him.

It was now only a week until the first day of the new term, and Alfie, instead of preparing for his new classes, was slumped on the sofa, TV on, waiting for Frank to get back from the off license with that week’s (Or night’s) supply of beer. Alfie didn’t consider himself a big drinker. That is, he wasn’t a big drinker before Frank moved in. Either he had an unhealthy amount, as well as Frank, or Frank would drink it all. Alfie hated hospitals.

Alfie couldn’t help noticing that Frank was drinking more lately, and drinking alone. When he was in the living room, he was constantly checking his phone for texts, missed calls, Facebook messages, anything. He was constantly turning the ringtone volume up, even though it was already on full volume, causing a sad, loud beep to echo into the quiet room. Alfie knew this didn’t stop when he was alone, because that sad, loud beep happened around every five minutes when Alfie was trying to sleep.

One night, Alfie went to talk to him about it. He made it up to Frank’s bedroom door, hand raised to knock, when he heard five, frantically fast, desperate beeps, before a clatter and a racking sob. His hand fell to his side, and he slowly walked away back to his own room. He felt like a complete dick, but he wouldn’t be able to deal with it, the crying, and the emotion in general. He would say the wrong thing, make Frank feel worse, and he really didn’t want that. The next morning, Frank had emerged from his room quiet, red eyed. He stopped checking his phone, which now had a large crack in the corner of the screen.

Alfie was shocked from his thoughts as the front door creaked open. Frank came into the flat back first, two large boxes of beer balanced against his chest, keys gripped in his teeth. Alfie stood up to help him, lifting the top crate and carrying it to the coffee table. The fact that Frank also put his crate near the coffee table was a pretty good sign of how their evening was going to play out.

A few hours later, the sky outside dark, with rain pelting the windows, they had finished the first box. Frank finished his can, chucking it into the bin bag they had strategically placed a decent distance away. Frank glanced at the second box, then at Alfie. Alfie shrugged. Frank opened it. Alfie and Frank had somehow mastered the art of non verbal communication whilst under the influence. Any words they did speak jumbled over themselves, and they could barely understand themselves, let alone the other. But this night was different. As Frank pulled out a can, he cleared his throat.

“Uh... The- The other night. I- Um. I heard you outside my door. S-Sorry about that.” He mumbled, thankfully sober enough to be understandable. Alfie sighed quietly, taking a mouthful from his can.

“Lis-Listen mate. It’s no biggie. I know you miss him. But... Surely now... It’s time to let go?”

“What, you m- mean end it?” Frank looked down at his unopened can, fingers drumming slowly against the metal.

“I think it’s for the best Fr-Frank. Honestly.” Alfie said honestly, hiccupping quietly.

Frank looked to his phone on the sofa beside him, leaning forward to put his can down. He picked up his phone, passing it from hand to hand, clearly debating in his head whether to do it or not. He pulled up Stephen’s contact, in his phone as “AA Stephen”, so that he was always the first name in his contact list.

He hesitantly pressed call, waiting a few seconds before holding the phone to his ear. Despite the time, Stephen answered quickly, sounding slightly out of breath, but happy.

“Hey babes, how are you?” he asked in a sing song voice.

“Um, I’ve got to talk to you.” Frank said carefully, trying not to stumble his words.

“What a coincidence, I’ve got to talk to you too! But you first babes.” Stephen fell quiet, the invitation to speak hanging in the air like the Sword of Damocles.

“Um, well, we haven’t spoken much recently...” Frank started, trying not to fuck up what he already knew was the worst decision he had ever made. And he had been arrested. But he couldn’t back out now.

“Yeah, I know babes, I’m so sorry, but I’m just so busy with the flat. I’ve been trying to find time to call you, but I just get so bogged down, y’know?” Stephen said quickly, and somewhat jaggedly, as if he was going up stairs quickly.

“Yeah, well... I can’t help feeling that maybe we should break-”

“Sorry babes, got to interrupt you. Remind me what flat number Alfie is?” Stephen interjected, seeming not have heard what Frank was about to say.

“17, why?” Frank said, confused. He jumped slightly as there was a quick knock at the door. His eyes glanced from the door, to Alfie, who had not heard the conversation thus far. “Stephen?” Frank asked, swapping his phone to his other ear as he stood up to go to the door. The line beeped as Stephen hung up. Frank, phone still at his ear, opened the door to see Stephen, shoulder heavy with a large bag, bottle of wine in hand, a huge smile on his face. His face fell as he saw the look on Frank’s face, who was close to tears.

“Frankie, babe, are you okay?” Stephen whispered quietly, dumping his bag on the floor beside him, balancing the wine on top. Frank didn’t say anything, just put his phone in his pocket.

Alfie watched with horror in the background, wondering what was going to happen. Stephen quickly glanced from Frank, to his phone, and to Alfie. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Babe... What were you about to say when I interrupted you?”

Again, Frank said nothing, but the answer was clear on his face.

“Were... Were you about to break up with me?”


	5. Make Up or Break Up?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen and Frank have a serious talk.

_“Were... Were you about to break up with me?”_

“Listen, Stephen, I think we need to talk.” Frank muttered, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

“You bet your fucking ass we do. Alfie!” Stephen called into the living room, over Frank’s shoulder.

“Hello Stephen.” Alfie replied, in a small, scared voice.

“Out.” Stephen ordered, pushing past Frank and striding into the flat, leaving his stuff in the doorway.

“Yup.” Alfie agreed quickly. He didn’t enjoy being around Stephen when he was angry, mostly because he was fucking terrifying. He grabbed his keys, phone and wallet from the coffee table and made a speedy exit, pushing Stephen’s stuff inside with his foot as he closed the door, miming “Good luck.” to Frank.

Frank turned around to see Stephen already sat on the sofa, amongst the discarded beer cans. He walked slowly to the entrance of living room, hovering in the doorway, unsure of what to say. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but each time, he didn’t say anything. After a long, awkward pause, in which Stephen continued to glare at him, he finally managed to get some words out.

“You didn’t tell me you were visiting.” He muttered, scuffing his feet against the edge of the living room carpet.

“I wanted to surprise you. I had a few days off from rehearsal.” Stephen replied, quieter than Frank expected.

“Oh.” Frank had no idea what to say. He was just about to break up with him for fuck sake, what _could_ he say?

“Frank, sit down. We need to talk, and we need to talk now.” Stephen said firmly, gesturing to the chair across from him, rather than the empty seat next to him, which Frank pretended not to notice. Frank walked across the room, which seemed a lot bigger than it did before, and sat on the very edge of the chair, hands clasped between his knees.

“What’s going on Frank?” Stephen asked, his voice almost cracking midsentence. His anger was quickly fading into an overwhelming sadness, but he was determined not to let it show.

“It’s just... I think... Well, we aren’t as close anymore...” Frank mumbled, tapping his toes on the floor.

“I told you, I was busy. I just got a flat of my own Frank, there’s a lot to do. I told you that.” Stephen said, his voice getting louder as he spoke, his hands clenching in his lap.

“I know, I know.” Frank nodded, his breathing jagged. “But I’ve missed you, so much, and I couldn’t handle not being able to speak to you.”

“So your response is to dump me? How does that work?” Stephen asked incredulously.

“I figured we didn’t have a future. That there was no point in dragging it out if it wasn’t going to last.” Frank tried to explain, but he couldn’t find the right words. It was all going so, so wrong, and he didn’t know what to do.

“You thought we didn’t have a future? What about all those nights we spent talking about what we were going to do when I graduated dance school? You said we could go to New York, Italy, anywhere, as long as we were together. I told you I wouldn’t mind being homeless if it meant being with you. What happened to that?” Stephen’s front was crumbling, and he could feel his eyes burning. He blinked furiously, refusing to let himself cry.

“I don’t know, Stephen, I don’t know. I’d still love to do that, I’d love to be with you and fulfil our dreams, and travel to all of our favourite places, and just be together in general.”

“Then- Then why is this happening, Frank? Why are you doing this to me?” All at once, his walls broke, and tears began to stream down his face, dripping into his lap. Frank’s heart broke to see him cry, and know it was because of him. He thought back to all the times that he had comforted Stephen when he was sad, whether it was an emotional movie, or when his grandmother passed away a few months ago. His hands began to shake, and he took a deep breath.

“Stephen... Stephen I’m sorry.”

“So is this it? Are we over?” Stephen asked, choking back a fresh wave of tears.

“I... I don’t want to be. I really don’t. But... Can we still be together after this? Will you take me back?” Frank asked, getting more and more panicky. What if Stephen didn’t take him back, what was he going to do then?

“I need you to tell me something...” Stephen whispered, barely audible across the room.

“What?”

“Was... Is there somebody else? Is that it? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“No! No, God no, I would never, ever cheat on you. Ever! I’m not that kind of guy. I love you, Stephen, you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, I would never do that to you!” He watched Stephen fearfully as he stood up. He expected him to take his stuff and leave, go back to his dance school. Instead, he stood there, looking at Frank, tears in his eyes. He glanced down at the still unopened beer on the coffee table, then at the empty cans scattered around the room.

Gesturing to them, he broke the silence. “Did... This... Have anything to do with you wanting to dump me?” Stephen asked, his voice quiet and even again.

“We, me and Alfie, we were both drinking. We started discussing me and you, and Alfie said that maybe I should end it.”

“So this was Alfie’s idea?” Stephen said, again, calm and collected. It made him even scarier.

“Well... Yeah.”

With that, Stephen strode across the room towards Frank, pulling him up from the chair by a handful of his t-shirt. He just stood there, looking him in the eyes.

“Remind me to give him the _biggest_ slap.” Stephen whispered angrily, before pulling Frank in for a furious, emotional kiss. Frank responded quickly, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close, and never wanting to let him go, ever again.

... ... ...

Alfie got back to the flat about quarter of an hour later, deciding, after walking around the local park freezing his nuts off, that it was an appropriate amount of time for them to finish their argument. At the door, he pressed his ear to the wood, listening for sounds of shouting, or any discussion at all. He couldn’t hear anything, and cautiously opened the door. Stephen’s bag was still on the inside of the door, which Alfie took as a good sign.

It was only when he walked into the empty living room, noticing the scattered clothing across the floor and furniture and the rhythmic, loud banging on the wall from Frank’s bedroom that Alfie realised he probably came home too early.


	6. Doritos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

Frank walked out of his bedroom with an obscenely large smile on his face. Alfie, who had eventually returned to the flat a few hours later, was sat on the sofa watching TV. As Frank walked into the room, in boxers and an unbuttoned shirt, Alfie looked up at him and gave an exasperated sigh.

“I’ve had no sleep, Frank.” Alfie complained, muting the Jeremy Kyle show.

Frank grinned, opening the fridge. “Neither have I.” He replied with a wink, grabbing two beers. Alfie grimaced, burying his face in his knees, groaning.

Lifting his head, he saw Frank raiding their cupboards. “What are you looking for?” Alfie asked, his mind still plagued with images he did NOT want in there.

“Doritos. I bought some a few days ago... Got them!” Frank said triumphantly, pulling out the bag from the back of the cupboard.

“Why were they at the back if you just bought them?” Alfie asked, confused.

“So you wouldn’t eat them.” Frank grinned. “Listen, Stephen’s staying here for a while. He’s um... He’s taking a year out before he goes to dance school. Going to do some free lance dance and drama work, experience, that kinda thing.”

“He’s teaching at Abbey, isn’t he?” Alfie asked, with a small smile.

“He called Fraser last night, yeah. He’s full on teaching dance, and he’s assisting with drama.” Frank looked almost shy, with his small smile, which was a rare look for him. Especially since he was basically in his pants, and you couldn’t see his neck for violently red hickeys. Frank, noticing Alfie notice the hickeys, pulled his shirt closed self-consciously.

“Well good for him. And you too, I suppose. It will be nice for you to spend more time with him. Speaking of which, I thought cigarettes were the traditional post coitus activity, not chowing down on Doritos?”

“I ran out of cigarettes.”

“Jesus Christ Frank!” Alfie exclaimed, clutching his chest in mock horror.

“What? You asked.”

“As long as you were safe, and you buy me ear plugs, I don’t have a problem with the arrangement.” Alfie conceded, putting his hands in the air.

“We were, I will, that’s great, bye.” Frank rattled off, before making to leave the room. Alfie caught his wrist from the sofa before he left. “What?” Frank asked.

“Are you and Stephen okay now? I’m sorry for making you do that, the situation was making you so unhappy, and-” Alfie started to gabble an apology.

“Don’t be sorry. Thanks to you, I got the BEST angry make up sex I have ever had.” Frank smiled, but with an air of acceptance, acknowledging his apology. “But there _is_ something you should know...”

“What?”

“I would um... I would stay away from Stephen for a bit. Because he will slap you. I don’t know when... But he will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was a short one!


	7. Bubbles, Beds and Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfie reminisces on the events that have occurred since Stephen moved in.

The days flew by until it was the night before school started again. Stephen had well and truly moved in, after travelling back to London with Frank to collect the rest of his stuff. True, Stephen’s stuff took up more space than Alfie’s did, especially since he had an equal amount of clothes for both genders, but he was more than happy that he was moving in.

When Alfie was living with his dad, there was nothing to look forward to when he came home, except sleeping. Now, he had a... Experience. Yes, that’s the word.

... ... ...

_“Frank...”_

_A very bubble covered Frank looked up from where he was pinned to the floor by a very bubble covered Stephen in a very bubble covered room._

_“You know what? I don’t even want to know.” Alfie sighed, glancing to the sink which looked like a small mountain of iridescent bubbles, still growing towards the ceiling._

_“I was trying to do the washing up.” Stephen explained, somewhat out of breath. “And some one thought it would be funny to EMPTY,” Both of them stared pointedly at Frank who grinned. “A bottle of fairy liquid in the sink when I wasn’t looking.” Stephen finished, but he didn’t look remotely angry. Very clean though._

_“One thing led to another, and we had a bubble fight. We’ll clean it up?” Frank smiled weakly._

_Alfie shrugged, wading through the bubbles on the ground, slipping on the wet wooden floor. “I just... That was a new bottle. Literally full. It was a family bottle. That’s like a litre worth of bubbles.” He said, mystified._

_“I know, can’t you tell?” Stephen joked, releasing one of Frank’s shoulders to gesture to the mess around them as Alfie shook his head in despair, walking over to the sink to turn the tap off._

_... ... ..._

_“Right. Alfie. Don’t get mad...” Frank started, nervously scratching his neck. “Oh God, this is so embarrassing...”_

_“Want me to do it, love?” Stephen called from the other room._

_“Let the man handle it.” He called back, grinning. “Stephanie day.” He explained quickly to Alfie._

_“I’ll fucking handle you in a minute boo!” Stephanie sounded angry, but you could hear the laugh in her voice. Alfie smiled at the banter, before Frank turned back to him, and went back to looking sheepish._

_“Right, so what happened?”_

_“Well... We kinda... Um... Y’see... Oh my God...” Frank mumbled and stuttered, barely coherent._

_“Frank broke the bed!” Stephanie called out, sounding smug, and just a little too breathless for Alfie’s liking._

_“What do you mean, I broke the fucking bed? It was a two person job Steph!” Frank called back, making Alfie cringe. He wasn’t even mad. He just wanted them to stop having suggestive banter. There was enough of that before they got together._

_“Two person? I was doing most of the fucking work!” Stephanie interjected again, still inside the bedroom. Alfie had a feeling she wasn’t entirely clothed._

_“Then it was your fault then!” Frank argued back._

_“Guys, guys. Er, I mean, guy and gal. I’ll get a new bed. Just please. Wait for me to get my ear plugs.” Alfie complained._

_“It’ll have to be quick Alfie. I reckon the bed store’s still open...” Stephanie called, finally coming into the room, wearing Frank’s large shirt and boxers._

_“If it gets me out of here, I’ll do it.” Alfie agreed quickly, grabbing his keys and turning to leave. Just before he opened the door, he turned back to them. “Please don’t break the sofa!” he pleaded._

_Stephanie chuckled quietly, becoming as sheepish as Frank very quickly. “About that...”_

_“You two need to be neutered!” Alfie cried, slamming the door behind him._

_... ... ..._

_With bed replaced, and wooden beam supporting the sagging sofa, Alfie thought the worst of the cringe worthy events were over._

_He was not right. At all._

_About two days after the “Breaking Bed” incident as Alfie dubbed it, he came home from the shopping to find something entirely unexpected._

_Frank and, now, Stephen were lying in the middle of the living room, laughing their arses off. It was fairly easy to see why, as they were both completely blue. As in literally painted blue._

_“Right...” Frank breathed deeply, trying to stop his laughter. “Y’know how you said we could repaint the room?”_

_“Is this a similar situation to the bubble fight?” Alfie asked, completely defeated._

_“Well, somewhat. Except, see... We got carried away at one point...”_

_“I can see.”_

_“Er, actually, no you can’t. Basically, we will repaint the wall, it got a bit ruined with er... hand prints.”_

_“You shagged against the wall, you’re now covered in paint, you’re probably going to shower together, and shag in there too, and I have to clean it up.” Alfie reeled off, sounding tired, but gradually getting used to the brothel that his flat had become for the pair._

_“That about sums it up.” Stephen gasped, clutching his sides, still giggling. Alfie grimaced as he spotted the finger streaks of blue up Stephen’s thighs, which contrasted with his black leggings._

_“Painting clothes”, apparently. He would have to get new ones now that they were practically ripped in two._

_... ... ..._

The sun was setting on the second day of September, announcing, very quickly, the impending doom of school the next day. Stephen was fretting about registering as a member of staff and coping with kids on his Stephanie days. Of course, he didn’t make this clear, but both of them could tell he was nervous. Luckily, as Grayson is a whispered name in the hallowed halls of Abbey Grove, Frank promised he would _sort out_ any little shits that made fun of Stephen or Stephanie, which made Stephen feel a lot better. Frank, however, was most pleased that he didn’t have to fuck around with a uniform this year.

“Frank, there _is_ still a dress code for members of staff.”

“Had to ruin my good mood, didn’t you Dickers?”

Yeah. The nickname still stuck.


End file.
